


Wicked Hearts

by originally



Series: Dissonant Verses [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Felching, M/M, Sloppy Seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3401126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originally/pseuds/originally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their game has escalated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [kinkmeme prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13275.html?thread=50735835#t50735835):
> 
> Cullen loves it when Dorian returns to their room freshly fucked, his hole dripping with cum of some anonymous soldier or mercenary. He eats Dorian out and then fucks him in his still open ass, while Dorian tells him all the details of this encounter and how good it felt.

As soon as Dorian gets through the door, Cullen is on him. He’s been antsy for hours, waiting for Dorian to get back from the tavern. He buries his face in Dorian’s neck, breathing the pungent smell of some other man’s sour sweat mixed with the familiar scent of Dorian’s hair oil.  
  
“Fuck,” Cullen says, and mouths at Dorian’s skin, and Dorian laughs.  
  
“You’re eager tonight, Amatus.”  
  
Cullen pulls back and looks him in the eye. “Tell me.”  
  
“It was a chevalier, one of the Marquis de Chevin’s men,” Dorian starts, as Cullen unlaces his breeches and tugs them down. “He was very handsome, in that Orlesian way. Dark hair. Astonishing green eyes. Rather impressive moustache, though not as fetching as mine, of course.”  
  
“Of course,” Cullen murmurs fondly, then switches to the brisk voice of command. “Hands and knees.”  
  
Dorian’s lips quirk but he goes without protest, kneeling on the bed and presenting his arse to Cullen’s impatient gaze. He’s wearing smallclothes made of light-blue silk, and there’s a beautiful wet stain on them. Cullen almost rips the garment in his haste to take it off.   
  
He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees Dorian’s hole, darkened and puffy and fucked open, leaking strings of thick, white seed. He touches it reverently, draws his finger slowly around the rim, collecting the leaking seed and pulling a soft gasp from Dorian.   
  
“What else?” he asks, and slides two fingers in, easy as a hot knife through butter, pushing the seed back inside.  
  
“He—fuck—he was very susceptible, didn’t take much persuasion at all. Had him wrapped around my little finger with a smirk and a touch to the arm.”  
  
“Mmm,” Cullen agrees, sliding his fingers out again and admiring how slick they are. “You are very compelling.” He spreads Dorian's cheeks with his hands and presses his nose to the skin there, breathing him in. Dorian’s scent is intoxicating: strong and musky and familiar, but undercut with the sharp odour of the seed. Cullen hums contentedly and Dorian shifts, clearly anticipating what comes next. Cullen grins to himself, and then flicks out his tongue to lap at Dorian's rim, tasting foreign, bitter release.   
  
Dorian moans throatily. “Maker, Cullen,” he gasps, and presses himself back against Cullen’s face.   
  
Cullen flattens his tongue and licks in long strokes, over Dorian’s balls and his taint and back up to his hole, hungrily gathering up all evidence of the other man.   
  
“How?” he says, word muffled against Dorian's skin.  
  
When Dorian speaks now, his voice has lost some of its amused undercurrent, and Cullen’s lips curve into a smirk of satisfaction.   
  
“He—we went outside. That dark space at the back of the tavern. He wanted to suck me first,” Dorian says, and that thought makes Cullen moan and press his fingers harder into the flesh of Dorian's lovely arse. He hopes he’s leaving marks. “It was— _kaffas_ —it felt good: hot mouth, knew how to use his tongue. He wasn’t one of the virgins. Moustache tickled a bit.” Dorian looks so beautiful when he's getting his cock sucked; Cullen wishes he could have seen it, Dorian against a wall with his head thrown back and some unnamed, dark-haired chevalier worshipping at his feet. But that would spoil the game.  
  
He presses the tip of his tongue into Dorian instead, savouring the way he can circle the tender flesh just inside his opening with barely any resistance. There's so much seed here. Dorian is filled with it. Cullen scoops some of it up on his tongue and lets it sit there for a moment before swallowing it down. The taste is acrid and overwhelming and Cullen can't get enough of it, or of the soft moans and whimpers that Dorian makes as Cullen’s tongue slides over his swollen flesh. When Cullen seals his mouth over Dorian’s hole and sucks, Dorian hisses out a stream of Tevene curses that makes Cullen laugh and run his hand soothingly over Dorian's quivering flank.

Cullen pulls back to look at him again: his beautiful naked arse, his well-used hole, the glisten of seed and spit on his skin. He leans over to kiss Dorian’s mouth, a wet, filthy kiss that Dorian moans into, chasing the taste on Cullen’s tongue.   
  
“Then what?” Cullen murmurs against his lips.  
  
“Then he pushed me against the wall and pulled my breeches down,” Dorian says. “He fingered me open for far too long, as if I were a maid who needed reassurance.”  
  
Cullen growls low in his throat and makes quick work of his own breeches. He palms himself and gets into position behind Dorian, brushing the head of his cock against his entrance for a heartbeat or two just to enjoy the way it looks, open and ready for him.   
  
“Did he fuck you?”   
  
“Yes,  _yes_ , come on, Cullen—”  
  
Cullen grips Dorian’s hip with one hand and pushes into him, sinking up to the hilt in one easy motion whilst the mingled fluids make an obscene, wet sound. Dorian groans and bucks his hips and Cullen chases the movement, the stretch and the slide of the seed allowing him to pull back and drive in hard and deep with long strokes. Dorian whimpers and Cullen digs his fingers into his hips.  
  
“How did he fuck you? Was it hard or gentle?”  
  
“Hard,” Dorian gasps, hips bucking wildly under Cullen’s hands. “He had a lovely cock, nice and thick. Fuck, it felt marvellous. But he was—fuck—for all he was gentle before, he was rough then.”  
  
“Yeah?” Cullen says, angling his hips down to hit that spot inside Dorian that makes him cry out.   
  
“He grabbed my wrists and pinned me and draped himself all over me and just—he just took it, fuck, just took what he wanted from me. He kept telling me how good I was, how tight, how perfect—”  
  
Cullen finds his rhythm, hard and fast and so beautifully easy with how slick Dorian is inside. Dorian’s retelling has dissolved into incoherency, and Cullen basks in the garbled moans and broken Tevene that he can reduce perfectly-composed Dorian to.  
  
“Did you tell him to fill you nice and full?” Cullen asks, driving back into him.  
  
“Yes,  _kaffas_ , just the way you like it,” Dorian says, breathy and gasping. “Feels so good when they finish inside me, when they get me ready for you, fuck, please Cullen, Amatus—”  
  
“Did he make you scream the way I do?” Cullen murmurs, and Dorian whimpers, his whole body tensed like a bow string. Cullen reaches down to grasp his cock, none too gently, and it only takes a few strokes before Dorian is coming hot across his fingers.  
  
It doesn’t take many more thrusts before Cullen follows him over the edge, spilling his release into Dorian to mix with that of the anonymous chevalier. That thought makes his softening cock twitch and he can’t resist sliding down to lap at Dorian’s oversensitised rim again, tasting their mingled seed, until Dorian hisses and twists onto his back. He stretches out on the bed, languid and well-fucked, and pulls Cullen down into a lazy, open-mouthed kiss.   
  
“One day, Amatus,” he says, pulling back with his smile sharp and his golden eyes glinting in the dim light from the fire, “we shall take you to a true bacchanalia and you can watch a hundred men fuck me.”  
  
Cullen’s own eyes must betray his lust, because Dorian laughs and kisses him again, slow and full of promise.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023485) by [Dragonflies_and_Katydids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonflies_and_Katydids/pseuds/Dragonflies_and_Katydids)




End file.
